


Doppelgänger

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Death, Ghosts, Magic Realism, Metaphysics, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-16
Updated: 2008-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is a dream, Wilson sure wishes he could wake up.  626 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelgänger

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Never Was](https://archiveofourown.org/works/150072) by [Dee_Laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry). 



> Sparked by [](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/profile)[**deelaundry**](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful story [Never Was](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/137291.html#cutid1).

_**Houseficlet: Doppelganger**_  
Copying this up to slap stats on it. Still not sure if I'm going to post it to a comm, but am unlocking it.

 **TITLE:** Doppelgänger  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **CHARACTERS:** Wilson. And Amber. Maybe.  
 **RATING:** PG-13.  
 **WARNINGS:** Yes, in that some readers _may_ consider this a death!fic for a major character.  
 **SPOILERS:** In a general sense, yes, for the Season 4 finale.  
 **SUMMARY:** If this is a dream, Wilson sure wishes he could wake up. 626 words.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** Sparked by [](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/profile)[**deelaundry**](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/) 's wonderful story [Never Was](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/137291.html#cutid1).  
 **BETA:** Many thanks to [](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/profile)[**deelaundry**](http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/) and [](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**pwcorgigirl**](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/) for the most excellent drive-by and encouragement.

  
 **Doppelgänger**

  
The first Amber that Wilson sees as a clinic patient, he doesn't think too much about.

The second, two hours later, he frowns a little.

The third, the next day, he stands and stares at the chart for a full minute before Brenda Previn says, "Are you all right, Doctor?"

By the time Wilson sees his fifth patient in two days named Amber, he's convinced House is behind it.

Her name is Amber York, and she's got athlete's foot. Before that, it had been Amber Fastow, with shingles, and before that, Amber Williams, with a rhinovirus, and before _that_ , Amber Price, with a broken toe. The first Amber had been Amber Taylor, but he doesn't remember what she had.

He goes to House, who denies it, of course, the bastard. He goes to Cuddy, who looks at him and doesn't say anything for a while, and he knows it's not her either.

He sighs and goes back to clinic duty.

Amber Fitzpatrick, twenty-one. She has brown hair, blue eyes, and a raging case of gonorrhea from sleeping with her boss.

Amber Casarez, thirty-two. Blonde, brown-eyed, broken right little finger from a pick-up softball game.

Amber Jessups, forty-eight. Red-haired, green eyes, food poisoning from a bad Hollandaise sauce.

Wilson treats them all, sends them home with scrips, warnings, and instructions to take two aspirin and call him in the morning. No one else -- not Cuddy, not Marco, not Brenda, seem to notice that every female patient of his for the last two weeks has been named Amber.

He wonders if he's being punished. For what, he does not know, but whatever it is, he probably deserves it.

He tells himself it's all some kind of cosmic coincidence -- after all, Amber _is_ a popular name.

After the thirty-second Amber, he doesn't want to see another one; he wishes he could skip clinic duty, but there's a nurses' strike (again) and the hospital is short-handed. House's appearances, of course, are few, far-between, and undoubtedly coerced, so most of the burden rests squarely on Wilson's shoulders. His clinic hours actually increase.

Which means yet more Ambers.

Amber Stonecipher, one, with an ear infection.

Amber Rubin, eleven, with strep throat.

Amber Tickwell, nineteen, with conjunctivitis.

At one point there's even an Amber Wilson; the name startles him so badly that he hides out in the restroom for a few minutes to compose himself. He splashes water on his face and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror -- a stranger looks back at him, a sallow-skinned man with sunken raccoon eyes.

The Ambers are forgotten for the time being when a massive morning rush pile-up on the Pike ratchets the hospital into overdrive; that afternoon it's a chemical leak at a paint factory that sends a noxious cloud of toxins airborne and blocks out the sun.

In a way, it's a relief when his first clinic patient the next day is Amber Volakis. She's already sitting on the edge of the exam table when he opens the door.

Her hair is perfectly coiffed; she's dressed casually in jeans and one of his own Oxford-cloth button-downs -- French blue, to bring out the color of her eyes. It's bright inside the exam room, flooded with the kind of light that comes with summer afternoons, when everything is still and shimmery at the same time and the mirage promise of water rises out of the barren rock. Far off in the distance, Wilson thinks he can hear the distinctive skip-growl of a badly tuned big engine -- a rock hauler, perhaps, or a flatbed trailer.

She smiles at him, and his heart turns over. The light grows brighter.

"Hey, babe," she says. "It's good to see you again."

  
~ fin


End file.
